“No water!” we exclaim. They said that a hurricane would come through, but what happened was just not very exciting. We’re looking at some puddles and lots more sand.
While parking, we’ve seen one car this morning and one person. Then another smiling nude body along the trail down to the lovely granite canyon base. At the bottom of the trail, a couple of tanned friendly guys are sitting in the sun. They all say the same perplexing thing, “No water!?!”
There is nothing to do but take resolve, “So, this will be just a hike today, not a dip.”
We’re at the campgrounds up in the mountains in Big Bend National Park. The hike today was wonderful. We’re surrounded by a variety of tall jagged cliffs and mountains on all sides. People are all around, in tents and small RV’s.
A wailing brat is dominating the otherwise peaceful program. He just doesn’t let up. This kid is a mess. I think about yelling, “Stop beating your kid.” But I’m sure the parents are embarrassed as it is and desperate to get the situation under control. When “he’ll just play himself out in time out” is obviously futile, the father goes into the tent looking tense and firmly on a mission. The child shuts up…Peace returns to the community. I think to thank dad for abusing the little monster. Nah, parents do their best, we all make mistakes and I just hope for the best…
…There is something special about this place…and the sun drops into a saddle.
Golden light and silhouettes replace it. There is calm and magnificence.
After falling asleep watching stars, we awaken to much of the same sense of peace, as the morning sun paints mountains.
When they make a breakfast burrito in Texas, it is built to last. There is a good place to eat in this out of the way spot in an out of the way little town. Back in the day, it was harsh, raw, unrelenting and so were the moral sensitives of the settlers. Today, it is harsh, raw, unrelenting, but very friendly. The young people that are running the store and its take-out are accommodating and enjoy themselves.
We get our gas and ice and sit on the front porch in the open air and shade. It has a peaceful small town feel, until nearby, a very old tourist crawls out of his car and accidentally blares his horn. A startled jump and things settle down again.
We head out on the winding two lane road, soon discovering that the distant ominous tall mountains, not far away, are where we’re going.
In the desert at the base of the mountain, there is a greeting station. We get our online reservations arranged and an orientation and then make our way up the long road in the mountains to the camping area and its facilities.
We’ve been setting up camp for our White Mountain Sojourn. I presented that in the last Post, number 3 in the series. There is more. I didn’t realize how much more, when I started to write.
Here’s how we bathe:
We must first drive down to the spring with its creek. It is beautiful. We have camped here before, but the 4th of July crowds will be there and some have arrived early. We need solitude and body freedom.
We slog to the spring in the wet grasses and slushy water that tends to seep out across a gentle floodplain slope.
A creek full of fresh water comes out of the ground here.
We have decided to camp in our ol’ favorite site at the edge of the great grassy field, amongst the Arizona aspen and pines. We are here to relax and sojourn. We decide to take our time to settle in.
This is that story.
We have sat awhile; it has been a long drive with late night packing. The big canvas bell tent may take two or three hours to put together. We have our small quick and easy tent to fall back on. We do.
Setting up the tent and blowing up the light camping mattresses for a comfortable bed takes a short time and effort. After a snack, we’ll sleep, but first we just wander and enjoy this place. We’re getting re-acquainted.
There are winds, lots of wind, but not as much as down here under the tree canopy.
The Next Day:
We have work to do after our first longer walk and some exploration. The first is to produce breakfast and then to erect the tent…after we sit a spell. There is a little guitar playing in between, just because I can and it feels good.
I wake up naked in the morning air of the forest, near its stream. There has been pressure, the tension of a list that needs to get done, the obligations.
I begin to walk, noticing the clarity of the air as I breathe. I take first steps. The ground is still moist, the silt on it comforts my naked feet. It is firm, soft, alerting them to the sensuality, grounding me, a gift greeting me. I sense a belonging in this.
The stream flows before me, reflecting the expanse of trees and sky.
The whole of this body of mine is grasped by the flood of gentle warmth, as I step into rays of sunlight. They glisten on the water’s surface, shining like diamonds with the gentle movement.
With little effort, the water passes, free of resistance.
I step down, intent not to disturb the rich green blades and moss that have gathered along the edge of this creek. Instead, my foot meets the hard stone surfaces.
Here lays bedrock, having been uncovered and smoothed by the passing of millennia. The shapes and texture show the changing ebb and pace of the water in time. Even a rock goes with the flow and records the liquid’s lessons in reflection.
I sit down on the rock surface, both of us bare and shaped by existence. I am attuned to the plethora of sensations that I’m experiencing.
The water level is just below my perch, where the stone slopes into the creek. My hand experiences a refreshing temperature, as it submerges from air to liquid. I feel its resistance to the push of the flow. I remove it and then I sit still.
I match my breathing to the rhythm of the spring’s calm, yet busy vibration. I take the cue to be more fluid, to loosen. Just as sediment and sand settle on the bottom, I feel my body similarly relaxing. All of that anxiety and restlessness begins to fall away.
More in the freedom from tension, I unwind from the pressure that had been consuming me. I’m here now.
When stress and worry tell me to push through, I remember the water’s wisdom. I can move with increasing ease. I remember that I can go with the flow instead of resisting it. I sit in this essential naked body, feeling it breathe.
I’ve taken something from a “Daily Word” prayer, which took a notion from Psalm 37:7 in the Bible. I then wrapped my own life and sense around it. Not all mine, I just want to share something meaningful.
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
I lay in bed, this morning, just listening. The meditation is to do just what I am doing; Focused; Mindful; Aware; Distract the thoughts; Doing just being.
The wind is heard in the distance. Invisible clumps of it are heard out there, in some direction outside of the tent. Then, when they come toward us, the tree’s branches above seem to move like a whip. But there’s not so much ruckus down here, below it all.
I roll to my side, one elbow supports against impending collapse. This morning, there’s a new world out there past the bug net screen. Parts of the mind are still climbing out of the nightly haze, as the body, now on all fours rolls somehow into a squat.
A zip and then a place for the head to fall through, I climb out of the protective tent.
Bright sun, fresh pine scented air, my naked body gets acquainted with the elements of the morning.
There’s wind. We get a break here from the numerous trees between us and the vast grassy field, which is surrounded with more distant dark forests. The gusts travel above us.
It’s a June wind. The weather service said gust as high as 45mph SE and SW, last night.
A giant whipping arc circles around from the north. It manages to penetrate the wind block. Very chilly air creates a shiver up and down a naked body. I’ll have to accept that it will likely happen again this morning, as just an occasional anomaly.
I say a little prayer for direction. I listen, aware and sit down to put some time into this.
Have you ever gotten to that point where you can feel that you need a reset? When every day you feel just a bit off, there is pressure, a long “to do” list and the ‘ol inner peace isn’t there?
I felt that I had lost track of the essence of my center. DF would say, “Not grounded.” Sometimes, that shut off button needs to be pushed. The clutter replaced with a pause, a stop.
We spent the first couple of weeks in June getting ready for the Western Naturist Gathering and the coming glamp-out. It is to be a sojourn, a retreat. The June heat is coming and we won’t come back until the monsoon rains cool that off. It will be like Spring after a long Winter, a fifth season.
I like that word “re-treat.” Our destination is a spot that I had chosen before, but that attempted treat came crashing down as covid laid me flat in this wilderness, alone, but for the howl of the Mexican grey wolves.
It is a beautiful spot in the National Forest, a designated wilderness where cattle are forbidden, and all is left to its own nature. There will be nobody else for miles and many long deserted roads to wander through the forest. We will happen upon the many gems yet to be discovered. There will be no dress code, only the immersion into nature.
We got back from the Western Regional Naturist Society Gathering, or as it was called, “Festival.” It was held during four days at Shangra La Resort in New River, Arizona. That’s north of Phoenix. I thought a report should be in order.
It started with a Thursday afternoon seminar about free hiking. It was followed by another lecture called “The Future of Naturism.” Both by Ken, it was aligned with this site’s trends. As it was presented, nude activities, being seen and heard about, is going to change the face of naturism. Whether it was nude public events, or just out on the trail, people need to come out of hiding and be proud, confident and honest with others. These were a theme throughout the festival, which was more like a convention. I was pleased to hear about and see people looking for changes and the ending of the oppressions in a free ranging context.
Ken mentioned how he has tried to get members of this resort out on the trails for a nude hike, over and over, again. His take was frustrated, “These people are not ‘naturists.’ These people are ‘nudist.”’ How can you be a naturist, if you are not out in nature? If you simply like being nude, then….
On Friday, Ken offered a nude hike off campus. The organizer complained how difficult it is to get these nudists to go off of club property. They are frightened and/or complacent caged chickens.
We had to miss a presentation called “History of Elysium Press.”
We thoroughly enjoyed the movie produced by the hosting group from Southern California called, “Disrobed-Why so Clothes-minded.” It was a covid era skit about a zoom meeting with a guy who suddenly finds out that his future in-laws and wife are all naturists. It was adapted from a 1930’s play. It was funny and thoughtful entertainment, if you get a chance.
DF taught Chi Gung/Qi Gong Friday and Saturday. There was some Tai Chi three mornings, as well. Both, I think, are better nude. Even the traditional practitioners call for loose lighter clothing.
Eight years! I’ve published for eight years, 12 months a year, four times a month, each week. I haven’t missed but less than a handful of weeks. Sometimes, I’ve been a tad late, or early, but that comes out to somewhere around four hundred posts in the last eight years! I started out with rough drafts of 100 trip reports accumulated during the previous eight years, or so. That was to be a couple of years that I planned of this, but I never thought I’d have the abundance of 400 somethings to say!
There are over six months of weekly material already in the works at this time. I’d suppose that there will be some adventure while those are brewing. We’re not quitting what we love to do. But, I’m going to attempt a change.
To put things in perspective, each of these posts requires me to make notes, and then, write while it is somewhat fresh, a draft. Then make a better draft and go over it, as I go along. There is a process sorting out and choosing which photos, sometimes out of hundreds and inserting them into the text. Then, I must often trim, or edit many photos, before I shrink them for publication. Then I must do the publication process with WordPress to place it all online. Of course I sleep on it and reread it another time before I push THE LAST button. I have spent at least eight to ten hours each week to get these to you, plus living the stuff.
I enjoy the writing, it’s very fun. We enjoy the photography and the time together. We are left with this archive of a significant piece of our life. It is not just a scrap album and some memories, but detailed accounts, which bring us right back. We’ll enjoy looking back on this for years to come. Also, we have a passionate desire to free bodies everywhere. This is something that we can do about that, person by person. We share our fun, we give. My point is that it has been worth it.
Still, I can spend just so much time writing each week, with all of my other interests. Sometimes, the quality is difficult to maintain with a deadline looming.
I have another writing project that I feel that I have to do for my family. It will happen over time, like this website has. It doesn’t require so much photography, or any publishing, just time to sort the thoughts out and then write. It has been put off for a few years and it has become time to act.
So, if I can break my habit of a weekly post, I intend to make some room to do my other project. I’m announcing that I may be missing a week here and there, from here on out. Maybe, I can pop shorter post in here and there, instead of the weekly epics? It’ll sort itself out.
I have been so very grateful for the approving response to our efforts and the opportunity to entertain, to have a gift to give and have it appreciated for many reasons.
So, we can’t stop being in nature, that just wouldn’t be right, the photography makes it even better, the writing is a journey in itself, we’re blessed and we’re looking forward to the continuation.
Happy Anniversary!
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
The Free Range Naturist 